


you belong among the wildflowers

by wearealltalesintheend



Series: Jason Todd Birhday Week 2018 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batwoman (Comic), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Batfamily Feels, Family Feels, Gen, and he's under the impression a 20 something is a real adult, jason has trust issues, kate has no idea how to be a grown up, or how to flirt with pretty girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15651312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearealltalesintheend/pseuds/wearealltalesintheend
Summary: "He doesn’t get past the second tire.The street is dark and silent and damp, like all alleyways in Gotham; the only sound echoing off the walls is Jason’s heavy breathing as he tries to finish his job as quick as possible.So when a hand grabs him by the back of his shirt and lifts, Jason screams.He screams bloody murder, because for all he knows it might as well be, and he thrashes and kicks and claws.“Hey, hey, stop that, dammit,” it’s a woman’s voice, gruff and annoyed, and a little amused. It doesn’t mean shit, not in Crime Alley, this can still be the beginning of his murder story, but Jason decides to open his eyes at least, take a look on his wannabe murderer. “Jesus, kid, should’ve known you’d be a biter.”or, alternatively, Kate Kane is the one that finds Jason stealing tires, and she might still be figuring out how to be an adult, but leaving a kid on the streets in the middle of winter is not something she's willing to do.Jason Todd's Birthday Week: Day 2 -Jason taken in by another DC character.





	you belong among the wildflowers

**Author's Note:**

> this is so late for Jason's birthday week, but oh my god, it was a nightmare to finish, I can't believe it's finally done.
> 
> Listen, I know Kate and Renee adopted Jason in Bombshells, but that's an AU, so I hope this still counts. I just really wanted to see Kate and Jason on a more or less canon setting.
> 
> Also, Bombshells is still the best DC comic.

When Jason sees the Batmobile, he sees a week’s worth of food on each tire. He sees the opportunity and he feels the reckless giddiness of the danger.

 

He dares himself to do it, and he never backs out of a dare, so Jason grips the tire iron tighter, grins, and gets to work.

 

*

 

He doesn’t get past the second tire.

 

The street is dark and silent and damp, like all alleyways in Gotham; the only sound echoing off the walls is Jason’s heavy breathing as he tries to finish his job as quick as possible.

 

So when a hand grabs him by the back of his shirt and  _ lifts _ , Jason screams.

 

He screams bloody murder, because for all he knows it might as well be, and he thrashes and kicks and claws.

 

“Hey,  _ hey _ , stop that,  _ dammit,”  _ it’s a woman’s voice, gruff and annoyed, and a little amused. It doesn’t mean shit, not in Crime Alley, this can still be the beginning of his murder story, but Jason decides to open his eyes at least, take a look on his wannabe murderer. “Jesus, kid, should’ve known you’d be a biter.”

 

You know, Jason’s got pretty lucky overall so far. Like, in a real fucked up way. Sure, his mom died and he’s homeless now, but like. He’s still alive, he’s got a place to sleep, he never went hungry for more than three days.  _ And he’s still alive.  _ So, it was only a matter of time, really, until it all caught up to him.

 

He’s gotta balance the good shit out sometime.

 

And well. A dirty alley is as good a place as any for some reckoning, he supposes.

 

Because, honestly? From where he’s standing, this Bat Lady looks like she could wipe the floor with him without breaking a sweat.

 

“ _ Let me go! _ ” Jason snarls, tries to twist out of her grip, “you can’t just go grabbing people, lady!”

 

She snorts at that, but doesn’t let go. “Well, and you can’t just go stealing tires, and yet here we are.” Jason glares, but his limbs are starting to hurt from all the thrashing around, so he counts his losses and decides to cross his arms and play along for a little while. “Good. D’you know who I am, kid?”

 

“Nope.” He shrugs, “I’d say Batman, but, you know. Batgirl?”

 

Bat Lady sighs, as if she heard that a lot, and she probably has, Jason figures. There’s so many bat freaks around lately, it’s hard to keep track.

 

“I’m Batwoman, kid. Bat _ woman.”  _ She eyes him suspiciously, “if I set you down, you promise not to run?”

 

Holy shit. “Fuck yeah.”

 

She stares him down for a minute before slowly lowering him back to the ground. The minute his feet touch the floor, Jason bolts. He can hear her cursing behind him, but whatever. She should’ve known better.

 

The criss cross of alleys is familiar for him, he’s been living off these streets for the past year, known them for even longer, so Jason takes advantage of it, runs like his life depends on it. But he’s so focused on the buzzing of adrenaline on his veins and on pushing his legs further the burn on his muscles, that he doesn’t realize the footsteps behind him stopped at some point until Batwoman lands on his way and he crashes against her at full speed.

 

She huffs, hands still on her hips, looking down, “told ya not to run, kid.” And Jason. Well. What’s he to do now? Running is clearly not getting him out of this. But if she’s got the Bat thing going on, she’s not gonna kill him or anything, right? Right?

 

“Please don’t kill me.” He blurts out, still half sprawled on the ground. It’s gross, his hands are dirty with grime and he doubts they will ever be really clean again.

 

Bat Lady shakes her head, and then crouches down, “I’m not really in the business of killing, don’t worry.” And now the amusement is clear in her voice, “but for real, what were you thinking, kid? Stealing the Batmobile? Really? You got guts.”

 

Jason sits up straighter, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading grime over his already battered shirt. “Got guts to feed, more like. And ‘s not like he was gonna miss it or anything. Guy could probably replace ‘em no problem.”

 

But Jason can’t replace the money he’s not getting tonight from those tires.

 

It’s so quick, he almost misses it. The softening of her face, even from beneath the mask, he catches a glimpse of it. She suddenly gets up, studies him again before nodding to herself and offering him a hand. “You hungry? Because I’m only asking this once, so think hard before you answer. Also, take in consideration that there’s a diner two blocks away from here. With heating, I might add.”

 

Maybe if he had eaten in the past two days, maybe if it weren’t so cold, maybe if he hadn’t just got busted trying to jack the batmobile, maybe then he would have the strength to say no. Jason hates pity. Hates it with a fiery passion, hates it with every flare of his temper, hates it in a way that makes his blood boil into acid. 

 

But her offer doesn’t sound like pity. Not entirely, at least. And, well, Jason is tired and hungry and with all the noise they caused there’s no way he’s finding anything tonight. So he looks up, at the hand waiting patiently for him, and takes it.

 

*

 

Surprisingly, no one bats an eye when Batwoman and some street rat sit down in one of the back booths, ordering milkshakes and cheeseburgers. But then again, this is Gotham. Stranger things have happened ‘round here.

 

Even stranger is how when she asks him about his past, Jason finds himself telling her without realizing. She’s good at interrogations, he curses silently. It must come with the job.

 

“So, lady, not that I’m not grateful and shit, ‘cause I am, don’t get me wrong,” Jason says, still working on his burger, “but what gives?”

 

She still has her mask on, but he sees one eyebrow raise behind it. “What.”

 

He shrugs. “Listen. I know how this goes. I ain’t going to no group home, okay? You can drop me there or at the station if you gotta, but I’ll be back on the streets by tomorrow, trust me.”

 

“What’s your name, kid?”

 

“Jason. Jason Todd.” It’s not like he has much to lose anyway.

 

“Well, I don’t doubt you, Jason. And I won’t drag you to any Police Station. In fact, I won’t drag you anywhere. But,” she raises a hand to stop him when he opens his mouth to cry out  _ bullshit _ , “I can’t just let you back in the streets. Not tonight in the middle of the damn winter.”

 

“That sounds a lot like you’re dragging me to some fucking shelter, lady.”

 

“Language,” she says mildly.

 

“You  _ just  _ swore, like, three phrases ago! No fair!”

 

“Anyway, as I was saying. I think I know a place you can crash for the night. Just tonight, you can leave first thing in the morning.” She adds hastily.

 

Jason swallows a mouthful of milkshake, taking the time to mull over her offer. The thought of sleeping in a real bed, warm, and with a roof without gaping holes over his head; it’s tempting. And if it really comes with no strings attached-- how can Jason say no? Besides, Batwoman, she’s a hero, right? She looks like one. Better than Batman, even. Batman wouldn’t buy him milkshakes at 3am in some dingy diner, he doesn’t think, no. 

 

“I could leave, say, before the sun is even up?” He asks cautiously, testing the waters.

 

She replies easily, “sure. Good luck waking up early, but sure, kid, knock yourself out.”

 

Jason snorts. Maybe,  _ maybe, _ just for tonight it wouldn’t be so bad.

 

“I just have to make a phone call, hold on.” Batwoman excuses herself and the bell above the door chimes obnoxiously when she leaves. Jason has a sudden bout of panic, sitting there with all this food he can’t afford and a pipe dream of a promise. What if she doesn’t come back? 

 

But then she comes into view from the glass windows, and Jason relaxes back in his seat. Now that he’s no longer panicking, his curiosity bubbles up and he presses himself against the glass, trying to see what’s going on.

 

She’s too far for him to hear, but she seems to be arguing with someone, all broad gestures and a scowl on her face. Jason tries not to feel disappointed, tries to mask his face back into blankness or a scowl of his own. He hopes it works, and when Batwoman slides back into the booth, he steels himself for the news.

 

“You good? Do you want anything else or are we ready to go?” She asks, then gets a look at his face, sighing, “the guy I had in mind didn’t come through as I hoped, but don’t worry. I found someone better. She’s way cooler than him, trust me.”

 

“If you say so.” Jason shrugs, draining the last of his milkshake and not quite believing his luck. “I’m good now. Where to?”

 

It’s just for tonight, Jason tells himself. He’s twelve years old, cold and tired. All he needs is a little rest and than he’ll be on his way.

 

*

 

Batwoman drops him off at the lobby of a tall, fancy building, after reassuring the receptionist that  _ yes _ ,  _ Miss Kane is expecting him.  _

 

In the elevator Jason tries not to squirm, tries not to feel so horribly out of place. He clutches the paper with a floor and a room number scribbled in messy handwriting, and watches the numbers go up above the doors.

 

“I can’t stay, but Kate is waiting for you upstairs. She knows our deal, don’t worry.” Batwoman had said, smiling kindly at him. She had squeezed his shoulder and slipped him two pieces of paper. “This one is her room number. And this is  _ my _ number. If you ever need anything, call me and I’ll come get you.”

 

Jason had stared, unsure of what to say. No one had ever cared enough to do something like this, he couldn’t understand what she’s getting out of it. “Why?”

 

She had smiled again, “‘cause you’re a good kid, Jason. Now come on, Kate is waiting for you.”

 

“Thanks. A lot, I mean.” He had said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. There had been a lump on his throat, choking his words. Maybe superheroes are really a thing, after all.

 

But Batwoman had only ruffled his hair and laughed when he batted her hands away.

 

And now here he is, standing outside Kate Kane’s room trying to muster the courage to do something. He raises his hand, takes a deep breath, and knocks.

 

*

 

Kate Kane lets him in with a breathless smile and tired eyes, her short hair sticking up everywhere, and Jason suddenly remembers that it’s gotta be after 3am at this point, and normal people are usually asleep at this hour. He feels a little bad for waking her up, but Batwoman sent him here, so he can’t be that much of a bother. 

 

He repeats that over and over in his head as Kate walks him to her guest bedroom.

 

“This is it, kid.” She gestures the small room. In the corner by the window there’s a bed that looks totally unused and hastily made, and on the bedside table sits a little lava lamp. Along with the hideous yellow rug in the middle of the floor, it gives an odd surreal look to the place. “It’s not much, I know. But I don’t usually have guests. Sorry.”

 

“No, no, it’s great. Thank you.” Jason steps inside, taking a look around. “Really, thanks.”

 

Kate smiles, and there’s something familiar about it, but Jason can’t quite place it. “Don’t worry about it. Bathroom is the second door to the right and mine is the one across the hall, if you want, the TV remote is somewhere in the couch. Probably. You’re welcome to use it whenever.”

 

Jason nods and she lingers a little in the doorway, hovering awkwardly and seemingly unsure of what to do next. Strangely, it makes him feel a little better, knowing he’s not the only one uncomfortable. He relaxes a bit, tension leaving his shoulders, and Kate seems to understand, giving him a tight smile before closing the door. 

 

Now that he’s alone, Jason finds himself breathing easier. He toes off his sneakers, kicking them under the bed before laying down on top of the covers. The mattress dips under his weight, and  _ holy shit, _ he’s never seen something so soft. Even back then, in the ratty hole-in-the-wall apartment he used to live with his mom, his bed had been lumpy and too thin and did nothing to stop the cold. But this?  _ Holy shit. _

 

He stares at the ceiling. Tonight had definitely been the weirdest day ever. Even now, Jason finds it hard to believe it’s true. He doesn’t have this kind of good luck. Before today good luck meant  _ surviving. _ Yeah, the bar is pretty low, but on the streets, that’s a miracle all in itself.

 

This? It sounds too good, and Jason would do good to remember that. Batwoman being a hero or not, he can’t go around trusting people. And this Kate, she might be rich, he doubts any of this is costing her anything, and this might be some favor Batwoman is cashing in, but he should stay alert. Just in case. You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but in his experience you should definitely watch out for a kick.

 

There’s a knock on the door and Kate pokes her head in, “hey, I figured you’d still be awake, so. Hot chocolate?” She offers him a mug, little marshmallows floating dangerously close to spilling, and the smell of cinnamon fills the air. Still, she catches him eyeing it warily, and laughs, taking a sip herself. “Here, it’s a family recipe. Kinda.”

 

Jason decides it should be safe, and it does look amazing, so he accepts with an apologetic grin. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome. I have trouble sleeping in new places too. Hot chocolate always helps me.” Kate shrugs, “just leave the mug on the table or something. ‘Night, kiddo.”

 

“Good night, ma’am.”

 

She makes a face. “Jesus, just call me Kate, okay? That makes me feel way too old.”

 

“Sure,” Jason finds himself laughing, “good night, Kate.”

 

The chocolate tastes like heaven, and with the amount of sugar in his bloodstream, it shouldn’t be possible for him to fall asleep, but he does. He promises himself that he’ll leave first thing in the morning, and drifts off.

 

*

 

Jason wakes up slowly, burrowing himself deeper under the covers, trying to hide from the sunlight coming in from the window. He drifts in and out of consciousness for a while, basking in the cocoon of warmth he made for himself, before the smell of pancakes reaches him, luring him fully awake. He stretches, feeling his limbs still heavy with sleep, and finally takes in his surroundings.

 

Last night’s memories rush back and Jason is slammed back into reality. Shit, he didn’t mean to sleep in. A quick look outside shows the sun high in the sky. It’s probably almost noon. He swears loudly.

 

Well, considering this is a penthouse, the living room seems to be his only option. Besides, sneaking out would be super rude, he supposes.

 

Also, pancakes. 

 

The TV is on, some News anchor is babbling about Arkham’s latest breakout, but no one’s watching it. The volume is very low and Jason can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but then again, it’s not like he’s overly invested on it. He tries the kitchen next.

 

To be fair, it doesn’t really look like a hurricane passed through there. A mild tropical storm would, perhaps, be more accurate. There’s pancake batter on the floor and the garbage can on the corner has smoke coming out of it. In fact, the whole room smells like burnt sugar. In the middle of it all is Kate, glaring daggers at her empty food cabinets.

 

“Good morning?” Jason says, once more feeling out of place in the fancy kitchen. 

 

She startles, turning around quickly. “Oh, you’re up! How d’you sleep?”

 

“Good, good. Thanks.” He scratches the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly and hovering by the table, “sorry, I didn’t mean to wake up so late.”

 

“It’s cool,” Kate shrugs, closing the cabinets and reaching for something in the microwave. “Here, I tried to make pancakes but, well. Eggos are safer.”

 

Jason looks down at the coffee mug and plate pushed in the seat in front of him. The waffles are a little soggy, a little pale. “Do you have syrup?”

 

“Syrup?” She stares blankly at a point left of his head, before swearing loudly. “Shit, I need to do a grocery run. But they’re chocolate chips, allegedly, at least. There’s cheerios too, if you want?”

 

“No, no,” he sits down, pulling the plate closer, “it’s great. Really.” _ It’s more than I had in a very long time, _ he doesn’t say. He takes a bite. The core is still cold, and there’s no syrup, but the chocolate chips melt in his mouth and the coffee is the right amount of bitter and sweet. 

 

They eat in silence for a while, Jason devouring his Eggos and Kate slowly working on her cheerios, and it’s kind of awkward, because they don’t really know each other and last night there wasn’t much time to talk. Jason thinks he should be thanking her again, except he doesn’t think it would go well with her. Kate doesn’t look like the kind of person to appreciate empty words, even if he means them. 

 

“So, you tried to steal from Batman?” She breaks the silence with a small smile, “wish I could’ve seen his face when he came back.”

 

Jason can’t help snorting at the mental image, he wishes he could’ve seen it too. “Yeah, oh man, that’d be priceless. He’d kill me probably, but _ so worth it. _ ”

 

“Nah, he wouldn’t kill you.” Kate leans in, as if telling a secret from across the table, “don’t tell anyone, but I think, deep down, that guy’s a softie.”

 

That gives him pause. This lady seems to know an awful lot of superheroes. Batwoman, now Batman. Suspicion rises from the back of his mind, but he stomps it down. If she knows them, she must be one of the good guys, ‘sides, rich people, man. You must get to know tons of people if you’re rich. “Kinda hard to believe. I mean, bats aren’t exactly cuddly, ya know?”

 

Kate barks a laugh, choking a little on her cereal, “kid, you’re a riot.” She shakes her head, “but seriously. I think he’d be impressed. Batwoman was. It’s not easy sneaking past those alarms.”

 

Jason perks up, “she was? Oh man, Batwoman is way cooler than the Batman. She bought me milkshakes yesterday. I’ve never had it before, it was so great.”

 

She grins sharply, and Jason thinks there’s a story there too. He’s beginning to think there’s a lot of stories here he’s not supposed to know. “She’s definitely cooler than Batman.”

 

“You know her, right? Like, she asked you to let me crash here for the night and shit. Thanks again, by the way. And for breakfast.”

 

“You could say that.” Kate shifts, waving him off, “also, kid, you gotta stop thanking me so much, it gets old fast. I don’t mind the company, but if you really want to repay me or something, you can help me clean up.”

 

Honestly, that’s the least he could do, and it makes him feel better, relieved, knowing he’s doing something back, small as it is. “Sure, yeah, I can do that.”  _ thanks,  _ it almost slips out again.

 

“Great. I’ll wash, you dry? We can deal with the floor after that.” She looks down at the puddles half glaring, half resigned, and Jason gets the feeling this wasn’t the first time it happened.

 

The clean up is filled with idle small talk, and Jason is surprised with how easy it is to talk with Kate. She listens what he has to say and she teases and prods at the right times, and her stories from the army go from hilarious to badass to downright terrifying. He doesn’t know how many of them are true, but holy shit, it’s still  _ so cool. _ No wonder Batwoman likes her. They’re both too badass not to be friends.

 

After they’re done, she ushers him to the bathroom, pushing a fluffy towel into his hands and telling him to shower and get the pancake batter out of his hair, and Jason obeys, ‘cause a real shower, with hot water and clean towels, sounds heavenly, and he’s still here anyway.

 

What’s the harm in staying a little longer?

 

*

 

A little longer turns into spending the night again.

 

It’s not his fault, he doesn’t mean for it to happen. 

 

But when he gets out of the bathroom, there’s takeout being delivered for lunch because it’s way past 2pm and Jason recognizes the boxes from a Chinese place down the block, and man, they smell  _ so good. _ Kate passes him a box and a fork wordlessly, before sitting on the couch with her own food and turning on a movie on Netflix.

 

It’s Star Wars and the fact that Jason’s never seen it is a travesty, or so she says, so Jason stuffs his mouth with the best food he’s ever eaten and tries to focus on the movie.

 

And one movie turn into three, because it’s Star Wars, and Jason kind of wanted to see if Luke beats the Emperor or what, and when Kate asks him if he wants to see the next, he searches for any sign that he might be overstaying his welcome, and agrees when he finds none.

 

After the second, she brings a bowl of popcorn and two sodas. Jason thinks she might be the best fucking person on this god forsaken planet.

 

He tries to leave after the third, but Kate is adamant that it’s late and he couldn’t possibly find his way in the dark and cold streets. Jason considers arguing, pressing further, but he knows she would cave, would let him go, and the thought of a warm bed is too tempting for him to refuse.

 

So, yeah. He eats the Thai takeout they order for dinner and helps her dry the dishes, and she makes him hot chocolate again before he goes to bed. 

 

It’s nice, and it won’t last, and Jason knows he can’t get used to this. But it’s cold outside and he’s never been good at making good life choices anyway.

 

*

 

The next morning, he wakes up earlier, but not early.

 

It’s a small feat, but a feat nonetheless, and Jason mentally pats himself in the back. It’s a first step in the right direction. He can’t go around forgetting things like this. In the streets, sleeping in can get you killed, and he’d do well in remembering this.

 

Stretching, he makes his way to the kitchen, the silence coming from the room is a little worrying, all things considered. 

 

He finds Kate standing once again in front of her cabinets, glaring at the void. Today there’s no mess in the floor, but there’s a distinct lack of food altogether. “Morning?”

 

“Hey, kid.” She sighs, dragging a hand across her face, “I’ve got mildly upsetting news. Wanna hear?”

 

Jason, his mind still a little hazy with sleep, shrugs. “Shoot.”

 

“There’s no food.” She says bluntly, gesturing the clean emptiness of the kitchen, “I may have eaten the leftovers last night. Midnight snacks, you know how it goes.”

 

He really didn’t, but oh well. Again, rich people, dude. He makes a helpless noise, it’s not like he’s got cash to help in. “Sorry?”

 

“Not your fault, I’m just bad at being a functional adult.” Kate looks down at herself, smoothing down her t-shirt, “I need to buy food, wanna come with? We can stop at a Starbucks first. Or a diner? Whatever is closer.”

 

As she speaks, Kate doesn’t stop moving, digging around in search of her car keys, and all the movement makes Jason dizzy, unnerved. His fingers itch for something to hold on to, and he thinks he should’ve left already, what’s he even doing? What’s  _ she  _ even doing. 

 

“Hey, hey, kid?” Kate snaps her fingers in front of his face, keys dangling from her other hand, “I can hear you freaking out from here. Hold that thought, food first, freak outs later, ‘kay?”

 

Jason nods mechanically, following her out the door and inside the elevator. “ ‘m not freaking out.” He tells her, because he’s not. You know. Honest.

 

“Sure you aren’t, kid.” She eyes him skeptically, “but I’m not nearly equipped to deal with this before coffee. Just hang in there.” She regards him thoughtfully for a minute, sunglasses crooked, before patting his head twice, and nodding to herself, pleased. Jason snorts.

 

They find a diner first, because it’s Gotham and lately it seems there’s a new diner in every block. It’s a real infestation, but an infestation that comes with pancakes and lots of syrup, so Jason can forgive it.

 

“Okay, I’m good now,” Kate says, downing her second cup of coffee, “what’s up?”

 

“It’s- I’m not. I’m very grateful about this whole thing,” Jason begins, hesitantly, “but I guess I just don’t understand, is all. I mean, why? Why’re you helping me, lady? ‘M just a street kid, like, we come dime a dozen.”

 

She cuts a piece of her waffles, eats it slowly, before answering, “Don’t sell yourself short, Jason. Not every kid would see the freaking Batmobile and go fuck with it. It takes guts. And to actually do it? That takes skills.” A pause, “but that aside, I think you were dealt a shitty hand in life, and I think you deserve better, and I think you’re angry. I’ve been angry, too. My mother and my twin sister, they died. Killed in a terrorist attack. After that, I was angry all the time too, at everyone and everything.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jason says, feeling small and young, and the childish part of him, the half he hides inside, wants to go home, whatever that might be.

 

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. And even if still hurts like a motherfucker, even if sometimes I still want to tear the world apart, I’m better. Because I had help, back then, I wasn’t alone. There was my father, there was my cousin. They helped me through it.” She goes on, voice blunt, but soft, “and when I look at you, I see a little of myself too. It’s not fair that you have to do this alone, you shouldn’t have to.”

 

“I don’t need help,” he cuts in, because it sounds a lot like pity, and Jason hates it, despises it, and it’s true, he had been managing just fine on his own without Batwoman or Kate freaking Kane deciding to meddle. “I don’t need pity or charity.”

 

“I know, and it’s neither.” She shrugs, “I’m doing this because I know what you’re going through, somewhat. I’m doing it because I can and because I want to. And like I said, life threw you a lot of shit, it’s not fair. You don’t  _ need _ help, but I’m offering anyway. Can’t promise you breakfast every morning, clearly, but I can promise to be here.”

 

This is a lot. Jason looks down at his hands, he’s not very good at accepting help, and he’s not very good at trusting either. 

 

Since his mom died, Jason’s been alone. And if he’s being totally honest, even before then, he’d already been alone. Catherine had tried, had done the best she could, but. She wasn’t a very good mom, he knows that. And Jason, well, he’s kinda tired.

 

Living in the streets isn’t pretty. It’s dangerous and hard and terrible. It’s never having enough food and it’s being afraid all the time. It’s learning to do things less than good to survive, it’s taking what he can get and thanking god for the smallest of  miracles. It’s being on high alert all the time, because this is Gotham, and Gotham eats you alive if you let your guard down for a second.

 

This is Gotham, and Jason loves his city, loves the gritty streets and the foggy air, honest, he does. But it’s  _ exhausting _ , and he’s just so,  _ so _ tired. He’s twelve and his bones feel drenched with the acid rain that falls every other night, stained to the marrow with dirt and grime.

 

Jason might be so very tired, but he’s no good at trusting people, and he isn’t sure he wants to change that. It’s what kept him alive this long.

 

He looks up at Kate’s open face, thinks of Batwoman pushing her own milkshake towards him with an amused smile. Something nags at the back of his mind, like he might be missing something obvious. 

 

_ It’s what kept him alive this long. _

 

*

 

Kate lets him go with understanding eyes that make him want to punch something.

 

Jason walks around aimlessly for a while, before deciding to check out his usual place, worrying someone else might have found it. An abandoned house isn’t much, and the holes in the ceiling leak water everytime it rains, but it’s better than nothing, and, more importantly it’s Jason’s. 

 

It’s still empty, thankfully, and the ratty backpack he uses to keep his stuff is still there, under the loose tile. He breathes easier. There’s not much in this world that he could say is his, so what little he has, is worth a treasure. A book, a photo, a couple of shirts, a hoodie. All shoved together in a bundle inside the backpack, and Jason hugs it tightly against his chest when he lays on his mattress that night.

 

He curls around it and pretends he doesn’t feel the cold seeping in, or the wooden floor digging on his skin, leaving bruises on top of bruises. He closes his eyes and tells himself it’s for the best.

 

_ It’s what kept him alive this long. _

 

*

 

The police station is a too familiar place and after a coupleof days, he finds himself sitting in an uncomfortable chair once again.

 

To be fair, Jason was really hungry and that bakery used to give him leftovers at the end of the day.

 

But that, he found out, was the girl at the counter. The owner, he wasn’t so forgiving.

 

The scowling man had taken one look at Jason with a crumbly bagel on his hand and then back at the wide-eyed girl just coming out of the kitchen, and gone red in the face with anger. He had pinned her with a furious look and Jason had made a split second decision. He turned around and ran.

 

Or, had tried to, at least.

 

He never made it past the block. A hand had caught him by the collar of his shirt, the fabric tearing but successfully yanking him back and down to the ground. 

 

This is so not his week. Getting caught?  _ Twice?  _ He sighs, swinging his legs back and forth as he waits in the station. Jason’s not sure what exactly they’re waiting for, the officer who brought him in had handcuffed him to this chair and tiredly excused herself to make a call.

 

Since then, she’s been ignoring his, all very legitimate, questions and demands. “But officer, even death row folks get one last meal. I have rights, you know. I demand a lawyer! And! And a phone call!”

 

She pinches the bridge of her nose, casting a longing glance at the clock above the wall.

 

Rude.

 

“I’m not saying anything until I see my lawyer!” He crows, “I plead the fifth!”

 

“Yes,  _ please,  _ I’m  _ begging  _ you to invoke your right to be silent.”

 

Jason is about to answer, when a voice cuts in. “Yeah, good luck with that. I don’t think he comes with a mute button.”

 

“Kate Kane?” The police officer asks, standing up surprised.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Kate smiles, offering her hand, “you must be Officer Montoya?”

 

He watches amusedly as they shake hands, and  _ is that cop checking her out? _ Holy shit, she totally is!

 

“I’m here for the chatterbox over there,” Kate waves a hand in his direction, “how much to bail him out?”

 

“No need. The owner didn’t press charges and I haven’t notified Social Services.  _ Yet _ .” She says, and Jason freezes. He’s so not going with some social worker, he heard enough stories from the other kids to know group homes aren’t always a good thing, and he has enough bruises as it is without adding broken bones to the list. “But you have to understand, with his record,” she makes a helpless gesture, “I can’t just let him walk.”

 

Kate grimaces. “Can you give us a minute?”

 

“Sure. I’ll go get some coffee. But make it quick.” 

 

They watch her make a beeline for the break room. Silence for a beat. Then, “please, don’t let them take me away.” He blurts out, turning to her with pleading eyes and barely contained panic.

 

“I won’t,” Kate says vehemently, coming to crouch in front of him. “Are you okay?”

 

Jason blinks, confused, “what? Oh, yeah, no, I’m fine. ‘s just a scratch.” He shrugs, showing her his bloodied knee. 

 

She nods, getting to her feet. “We’ll clean that up later, I think I have some band aids in my car.”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“I asked Batwoman to keep an eye on you,” Kate admits, “and she called me after Officer Montoya called  _ her _ .”

 

Jason had figured as much. 

 

The cop comes back soon after, handing Kate a cup with a smile. “So, I’ve talked with the Commissioner,” she announces, “and he says that, as long as you take responsibility for him, he’s free to go.”

 

“Thank you,” Kate rests a hand on his shoulder, and Jason lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “This won’t happen again.”

 

“I mean, I make no promise-” the hand tightens, squeezing in warning, “okay, okay, shutting up.” He grumbles.

 

The officer laughs and uncuffs him easily. “I hope I don’t see you around here again, brat. You’re lucky the guy didn’t wanna press charges.”  _ Or worse _ , it goes unsaid.

 

Jason nods, rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs broke skin. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.” He turns to Kate, tugging at her shirt, “can we go?”

 

She snorts, patting his head. “Sure, kid. Well, thank you again, Officer.”

 

“Please, it’s Renee.” 

 

“Then thank you, Renee.” Kate smiles warmly, shaking her hand, and Jason snickers. “Let’s go, kiddo.” She pushes him towards the exit.

 

The Police Station isn’t exactly a place kind to street kids, cops like Renee Montoya, that treats them like people too, are rare exceptions. Now, as they make their way out, he can feel their scowls and stares, the judgement and disgust. Jason huddles closer to Kate, hands finding the hem of her shirt again and griping it. She looks down, frowning at first, but understanding comes quickly, her face hardening and an arm curls around him protectively. 

 

With Kate glaring at anyone that dares stand too closely, they exit the station without trouble.

 

*

 

“So, kid,” Kate begins, turning the engine on, “where to?”

 

And isn’t that the question?

 

Jason pauses. 

 

He could ask her to drop him off by his good ol’ abandoned house. And she would, he knows. She wouldn’t like it, would probably complain about the state of the building, but she would let him go. 

 

“My offer still stands, you know.” Kate adds.

 

Jason thinks of the litany of band aids covering his skinned knee. It’s been a long time since he felt  _ safe _ , since he stopped looking behind his shoulders. Since he let someone else look after him. 

 

He isn’t good at trusting people, and it’s what kept him alive this long, but maybe it’s okay to want more than just surviving.

 

“Can we get something to eat first?” Jason asks quietly, shifting on his seat.

 

Kate smiles, ruffles his hair. “I was hoping you’d say that. Forgot about groceries again.” She curses, “you cool if we stop by a Walmart after?”

 

Yeah, Jason’s cool with that. 

 

*

 

Living with Kate is, well, it’s  _ different. _

 

Jason thought having adult supervision would mean someone breathing down his neck 24/7. And maybe it is, but he wouldn’t know, because most of the time Kate seems to be as clueless as him on how to be a grown up.

 

Soon enough he finds out those first two mornings were a fluke. Kate Kane is not a morning person. In fact, she’s barely a person at all. It’s nice to know she had been making an effort to accommodate him, but it’s clear there’s only so many days she can withstand waking up before 9am. 

 

The first time she isn’t there when he wakes up, Jason stays in his room, curled on his bed until he hears her bedroom door opening and her cursing as she hurries to the kitchen.

 

The second time, he stays in bed too, but at breakfast Kate yawns, looking dead on her feet, and tells him to just wake her up tomorrow whenever, because she never hears her alarm clock.

 

The third time, Jason hesitantly knocks on her door until she opens it, then he scurries away quickly.

 

On the fourth morning it happens, it becomes clear that Jason knocking on her door to wake her up is going to becomes a daily thing.

 

It turns surprisingly easy into a routine.

 

First, Jason wakes up a little after 8:30 am. It’s later than he is used to, but still early enough so that he doesn’t begin to feel restless again. 

 

Then, he goes about his morning business. Brushing his teeth, taking a quick shower, making his bed– because if there’s one thing his mom drilled into him was that you gotta be extra polite when you’re in other people’s place. 

 

Once it’s 9am, Jason walks down the hall and knocks on Kate’s door. Usually, it takes a few tries and a lot of crashing noises from behind the door until she steps outside, looking harried and grumpy. She squints down at him, grumbling what could maybe pass as a  _ good morning _ , and then heads unsteadily to the bathroom. 

 

While she’s in there, Jason goes turn on the coffeemaker and sets the table sloppily.

 

“Hey, kid,” Kate says, as she finally gets to the kitchen, hair damp and looking slightly less like a zombie. She checks on the coffee and pours two mugs, passin him one, “sleep good?”

 

He snickers down into his coffee, “yeah, I slept good. Are you making pancakes?”

 

Kate begins laying out the ingredients on the counter, frowning as she tries to remember where she put each thing. “Yeah. Pancake’s good.”

 

“Uh, you do remember what happened last time, right?” He feels like he should remind her. “I mean, I still don’t know how you got batter on the ceiling.”

 

She pauses, turning to him slowly and pointing with a spatula, “brat.”

 

Jason laughs, “sorry, I’m just saying!”

 

“Brat.” She nods, pleased, and then returns to her cooking.

 

Some mornings it’s pancakes, some mornings are waffles, and some mornings they have to rush to a diner because she forgot about groceries again. It’s not perfect, but Jason finds he can get used to it. 

 

It’s not what he used to imagine when he walked past one of those white-picket fence houses and tried to visualize a picture perfect family inside. It’s really not.

 

But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

 

It’s just different. 

 

It’s almost  _ nice. _

 

*

 

The afternoons are usually pretty chill.

 

Sometimes Kate leaves for hours on end with some lame excuse, but Jason doesn’t pry. He knows better than that. When that happens, he plops down in the couch and puts on whatever movie or show he wants on Netflix. Or Amazon Prime. Or HBO. Turns out Kate is addicted to a lot shows.

 

He does make sure never to watch any movie trilogy or tv show he had begun watching with Kate. Those are the ones they watch during dinner, slouched on the couch and staying up until almost midnight.

 

Other times, she takes him wherever she needs to go. At first these places include the mall, where she dragged him stubbornly across stores upon stores to buy him shit like clothes and shoes and a haircut. He hated every second of it, but grit his teeth and followed her around, because she has a point. He can’t go around looking like a hobo anymore. 

 

And, even if he’d never admit it aloud, he did, kind of, have a little fun.  _ And  _ it’s cool not to have holes on his clothes anymore.

 

But his favorite place is still the Library.

 

She brings him there one day, because she has to return a book. 

 

The minute Jason steps inside, it takes his breath away. The place is huge, with shelves and shelves and shelves of books all around. It’s paradise, he’s sure of it.

 

“Wanna take a look around?” Kate asks, smiling at the awed look in his eyes, “it might take me a minute here.”

 

“Yes,” Jason blurts out, “I’ll be like, right back. Thanks, bye.”

 

He walks through all the shelves, tracing the worn out spine of the old books and marveling at the shine of the newer ones. Jason’s never seen so many books before. He picks one out, carefully taking it off the shelf.  _ The Book Thief. _

 

Sliding down to the floor, Jason begins reading. Just the first few pages, then he’ll go find Kate.

 

*

 

In the end, it’s Kate that finds him.

 

“There you are,” she sighs in relief, “been looking all around for ya, kid.”

 

“Sorry,” Jason smiles sheepishly, waving the book in front of her, “lost track of time.”

 

She takes it from him, helping him up, “Book Thief? Nice. You like it?”

 

He brightens instantly, “fuck yeah! I’m like, still on the beginning, but it’s kind of sad, but really good.”

 

“Well, let’s take this one then,” Kate says, “unless you wanna look for some other?”

 

“No! This one is great!” Jason assures her, “seriously, it’s okay if we take it?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” she shrugs, “I’ll just check out on my name. It’s cool.”

 

He hesitates for a minute, before wrapping his arms around her middle, hugging her tightly. “ _ Thank you.” _

 

“You’re welcome,” Kate ruffles his hair, hugging him back. “After the paperwork is done, we can get you a library card, too. Until then, we can use mine.”

 

Jason nods against her shirt, unable to say anything back. He squeezes his arms one last time before pulling back and dragging her all the way to the counter.

 

*

 

It's about five months in when it happens.

Jason wakes up a little later than usual, rushing down the hall to knock on Kate's door still on his pajamas and with a toothbrush on his mouth. He knocks once, twice. Then, he calls her name, whining. Jason isn’t too worried about it, it happened before. Sometimes it takes him some tries to wake her up.

It’s only after the fifth try that Jason begins to worry. He tries to swallow past it, going to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth. He’ll try again later.

Half an hour later and the coffee ready, Kate still hasn’t shown up. A ball of anxiety grows on the pit of his stomach, clawing its way up slowly with each breath. Jason decides to try the doorknob.

It turns.

And reveals an empty room. Her bed is still made, her clothes sorta organized as always, the curtains drawn, fluttering with the wind from the open window. Dread washes over Jason. _ Is this it? _ No, Kate wouldn’t just up and leave, her things are all still here. Right?

Besides, maybe she just didn’t come home last night. She’s probably already on her way home.  

He closes the door quietly behind him, padding back to the kitchen and pouring himself some coffee. Digging through the cabinets, he finds a box of Cheerios. It’ll do while he waits. Kate will probably bring Waffles from the diner down the block, it’s her favorite way to say sorry.

She’ll be here soon.

_ Anytime now. _

*

When afternoon rolls around and there’s still no sign of Kate, Jason begins to seriously worry. He calls her cell phone several times but it always goes to voicemail, he texts her but it still says unread.

The TV isn’t any better either. The news keeps bringing up the massive Arkham breakout last night and the giant showdown near City Hall. Jason worries and worries and worries.

What if she got caught in the crossfire?

What if she’s finally fed up with Jason?

What if she finally realized Jason’s not worth the trouble?

What if she left for good?

_ What if she isn’t coming back? _

Jason curls up on the couch and pretends to watch some TV show, and he waits. He has his phone in a white-knuckled grip, checking it every five seconds. He refuses to cry and he pointedly doesn’t think about being all alone again.

_ Anytime now _ , he tells himself, and  _ waits. _

*

The sound of the front door opening wakes him up with a start. Jason doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but it’s dark out now. His phone blinks up back at him, 20:34. But the time doesn’t matter, because someone is opening the door, so Kate is finally back!

Jason scrambles out of the couch, and is already halfway to the door, when he realizes that’s not Kate. He skidders to a stop, confused, “Batman?”

The man is standing in the doorway, looking down at Jason with a grave face. He takes a step forward, inside the apartment, and says, “Hello, Jason.”

“What are ya doing here?” Jason frowns, slowly backing away. If only he could get to the baseball bat they keep near the bookshelf, “what did you do with Kate?”

 

“I’m here to take you to her,” he says, like Jason is supposed to just believe and go with him without putting up fight. Yeah,  _ as if. _

 

He tells the vigilante exactly that. With all the force of his spite, which ia to say,  _ a lot.  _

 

Batman seems to be taken aback by that, clearly not expecting Jason to tell him to stuff it, and before he can say anything else, there’s the disapproving sound of someone clicking their tongue and a man steps around him.

 

Well, a teenager really. Two years older than Jason, tops. His costume is black and blue, and he shakes his head at Batman, “really, B? It’s a kid, not a thug. You’re scaring him.” The teen talks making wide gestures towards where Jason is now gripping Kate’s bat.

 

“Hey!” Jason complains, “I ain’t scared! And I’m not a kid!”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Black-and-blue says, raising his hands in front of him in a placating manner, “of course not. My name’s Nightwing, and you’re Jason, right?”

 

He grips the wooden bat tighter, holding it as menacing as he can, “how d’you know that?”

 

“Kate told us,” Batman answers, his voice a bit less somber, “she told us all about you.”

 

“What he means,” Nightwing says, throwing a glare at the older hero, “is that Kate is staying at Wayne Manor right now, so she asked us to come get you.”

 

“Why?” Jason asks, not ready yet to give up his suspicions. He knows the Kanes and the Waynes are related or something, but why wouldn’t Kate warn him first? Or take him there herself? “Why isn’t she with you?”

 

The two vigilantes exchange a look. Worry begins pooling inside Jason again, because he knows that kind of look. It’s the one grown ups used to share a lot over Jason’s head when talking about Mom. 

 

“She wanted to,” Nightwing says slowly, “but I think it’s best if she tells you herself.”

 

“Come with us,” Batman tells him, almost gently even in his grave voice, “she’s very worried.”

 

“Yeah, not to rush you or anything,” the younger man says, scratching the back of his head, “but she’ll probably kick our ass for taking so long.”

 

Oddly, that makes him relax a little, because yeah, she probably will. That’s such a Kate thing to do that Jason believes him. Jason is still worried about a whole lot of things, but sitting on the couch all day,  _ waiting, _ it had been awful. So he lowers the bat, and chooses to believe them. “Yeah, okay,” he says.

 

“Great!” Nightwing claps his hands cheerfully, waving him over, “let’s go then. Wayne Manor is stupidly far from the city.”

 

Batman is already turning to leave when an idea hits Jason, “wait, hold on!”

 

Running to the master bedroom, Jason grabs Kate’s pillow, the one she takes to the living room when they have the rare sleepovers. He skids back to the front door, his socked feet gliding easily in the floor and– “oh  _ shit _ , my shoes!”

 

He races back to his own room, diving down to fish for the sneakers under his bed and hastily put them on, shoelaces be damned. By the time he makes it to where Batman is waiting for him, Nightwing nowhere in sight, Jason’s out of breath, “okay, yeah. ‘m good now. Let’s move, people.”

 

“There is plenty of pillows at the Manor, you know.” Batman comments idly.

 

Jason shrugs, saying simply, “I know.”

 

*

 

The ride to the Manor is somewhat tense. Nightwing keeps trying to fill in the silence with small talk. He asks Jason about school, and football, and all the other things Jason has no idea how to answer. It sounds like a Google search. Type in,  _ what pre-teen boys like _ , and wait for your list. Nightwing sounds like he didn’t want to wait too much. It soon becomes clear that small talk isn’t getting them anywhere, but the younger hero seems determined not to let the conversation lull into silence. He keeps glancing at Batman, not hard enough to be a glare, but not soft enough to be just a look. 

 

Batman doesn’t look away from the road, and he doesn’t speak. When the radio crackles to life with police reports, he turns it off.

 

Jason curls up on the backseat, hugging the pillow tight, and tries to ignore the unease air steadily growing around them. Nightwing had been right, Wayne Manor is stupidly far from the city.

 

*

 

Climbing out of the Batmobile, Jason is struck by the sleek technology built in the Cave. It’s a jarring thing, the high tech computers blinking artificial light underneath the high stone ceiling, and Jason stands next to the car, looking around him, dazed and awestruck. 

 

_ Wait a minute. Does this mean– _

 

“Later,” Batman rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly before gently pushing him towards an old man, dressed in old timey butler clothes and wearing a calm smile. “Alfred will take you to Kate.”

 

Jason eyes the butler warily. There’s so much trusting he can do in one night, but then Nightwing grins, ruffling his hair, “don’t worry, Alfie’s the best.”

 

Well, you know how it goes. In for a penny, and all that.

 

Alfred smiles down at him, eyes gentle, “come on, Master Jason, it’s very nice to meet you.” Jason wrinkles his nose at the title, and the butler chuckles softly, “Miss Kate is upstairs, waiting for you.”

 

Only hesitating for one more minute, Jason follows him up a narrow set of stairs and out, and here’s the kick, of a grandfather clock and into a hallway. He blinks at the sudden transition, again speechless against the fact that he had just been in the Batcave and is now standing somewhere in what must be the Wayne Manor. 

 

It’s mind blowing information, and Jason is having trouble wrapping his head around it or properly processing anything, so he just keeps following the butler through the maze of halls, carefully not touching anything and trying not to feel too out of place.

 

They stop in front of one of the doors. “Here,” Alfred says, gesturing the closed wooden door, “I shall leave you to it, then. Call if either of you need anything, but I believe Master Bruce will be up soon.” And with that he turns the doorknob, and Jason is inside the room before he can even say anything back, clutching the pillow tightly on his hands.

 

“Oh, thank god, what took them so damn long?” Kate is laying on the bed, her left leg on a pristine white cast and white bandages poke from under her shirt all over her shoulder, there’s a bruise blooming on her cheek. Jason thinks he must be staring wide-eyed, and the fear gnawing at his guts must be showing, because Kate smiles carefully, wincing at her split lip, and everything about her softens, “hey, stop worrying, kid. It looks worse than it is.”

 

Jason can’t make himself move quite yet, his mind is working in overdrive by now, trying to take in everything and all that it might mean for Kate, and for himself. “I don’t– I mean, what happened?”

 

Kate hesitates, looking like she would’ve bit her lip if it weren’t cut. “How much did Bruce tell you?”

 

_ Holy shit.  _ “Oh my god, Bruce Wayne really is Batman.”  _ Holy shit.  _ “Holy shit.”

 

“Nothing, it seems.” She rolls her eyes, mutters to herself, “damn it, Bruce. Hell of a time to begin listening to me.” Kate shifts, trying to sit up, and waves him closer. It takes him a few tries to unroot himself from the doorway, but  he manages to move even with legs weighting like lead, sitting at the chair next to the bed. “Okay. First things first, I’m sorry. You were alone all this time, and I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to. I got knocked out and, well. I’m not exactly mobile right now.”

 

“It’s okay,” he says, laughing full of disbelief. There’s a hysterical edge to his movements, but he can’t help it. “I mean.  _ I mean.”  _ He doesn’t know what he means. “You’re–  _ Batwoman,  _ you’re  _ Batwoman,  _ right?”

 

She grins, as if she couldn’t possibly help herself. It’s a little savage, and dangerous, and Jason recognizes it from that night next to the Batmobile and Batwoman asking him if he knew who she was. “Guilty as charged. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, too, but it’s dangerous. I didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.”

 

“So that’s why you kept sneaking out every night?” He blurts out, “I thought you were going to meet that cop.”

 

“Renee?” Kate blinks, looking down at her hands folded on her lap, “nah. That’s. I haven’t talked to her in a while. Wait, how did you know about that?”

 

Jason shrugs, biting back a smirk, “you’re not exactly subtle. At sneaking out or pining.”

 

Kate snorts, laying back on the mattress. “You’re a little shit, and you’re lucky I’m stuck on house arrest.”

 

He breathes a little easier, this back and forth feels normal, and Jason thinks this might be okay. Kate Kane is Batwoman, Bruce Wayne is Batman. It feels like he might be able to begin processing this information.

 

“Is that my pillow?”

 

“Oh, right, yeah,” Jason looks down at it resting on his lap, then offers it to her, avoiding her gaze and feeling a little self conscious. “You said you can’t sleep in new places. So I brought it to, you know, help and shit.”

 

She takes it, fluffling it and replacing the one in her bed. “Thank you, Jason.” A hand tousles his hair surprisingly gently, and when he looks up Kate has a fond smile on her face and eyes suspiciously bright. “I’m really sorry I worried you.”

 

“It’s okay. You’re a superhero, and all.”

 

“Still. I’m sorry.”

 

Something heavy and bitter uncoils on his chest, and Jason feels suddenly lighter. It catches him unguarded, and the words spill before he can stop them. “I thought you left.”

 

Kate curses quietly. “Shit. Kid, you might be a brat half the time, but I would never just up and leave. I promised you I’d be here, didn’t I? You should know that about me by now, I don’t break promises.” She hesitates, running a hand through her short hair, “Listen. I don’t want to replace your mother, and I don’t know the first thing about being one. To be honest, I always kinda figured I’d never have a kid myself. But Jason, I think adopting you was the best decision I ever made. I promise you I will never leave you alone, okay? It’s you and me now, kid.”

 

Jason thinks he might be crying a little, but maybe that’s okay this time. He had been so terrified of losing this today, of being left alone again, the sheer relief and  _ safety  _ her words bring him are a startling contrast. He loves her fiercely for it. Jason lunges from his chair, throws his arms around her middle, hugging her tightly and burying his head on her shirt.

 

No, Kate Kane could never replace Catherine on Jason’s mind, but that’s more than okay. Kate is nothing like Catherine.  _ She is better _ , he thinks guiltily. Kate is more real than any memory of good days with his mom, and she looks after him in ways Catherine never could. And Jason in beginning to learn that wanting to stay with Kate it’s not betraying his mom.

 

“Does that mean I can be your sidekick?” Jason asks, voice muffled by her shirt, “I could totally be your sidekick.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Kate sounds amused, and not at all surprised, “you will do no such a thing. You are going to stay put until next month, and then it’s middle school for you.”

 

He snaps his head up, “what? Really?”

 

“Yes? This is not the reaction I had been expecting.”

 

“It’s definitely different from the fuss this one put up.” The deep voice comes from the doorway and both Kate and Jason turn to look. Bruce Wayne stands there, arms crossed over his chest, and Richard Wayne is leaning against the wall behind him. “It’s good to finally meet you, Jason.”

 

“Oh my god, you’re really Batman,” Jason blurts out, “holy shit, I stole Bruce Wayne’s tires. Because Bruce Wayne is Batman.  _ Holy shit.” _

 

The man huffs out a laugh, walking inside and making space for his son to approach the foot of the bed as well. “Indeed. I heard about that. I confess I was quite perplexed to find two of my tires lying around on the sidewalk.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

Richard snorts gleefully, eyes dancing in the light. “Are you kidding me? I would have paid you good money to see that. Seriously, Kate, couldn’t you have taken a picture or something?”

 

“I would’ve,” Kate says, grinning and helping Jason climb in the bed, “but kid’s a runner. Made me chase him a good six blocks.”

 

“This is really becoming family tradition, isn’t it?” He chuckles to himself before smiling at Jason, “I’m Dick Grayson, and it’s nice to properly meet you, Little Wing.”

 

Jason makes a face at the nickname. Dick laughs, “it’s too late, get used to it. You’re family now.”

 

That’s– How can he be mad? Still, Jason scowls, out of principle. Kate snorts, ruffling his hair again, and he shifts, leaning more comfortably at her side, careful not to jostle her injuries. “Wait.  _ Wait.  _ Then,  _ you’re  _ Nightwing?  _ You  _  were Robin?”

 

“The one and only,” he grins.

 

“ _ Cool.” _ Jason can’t help the wonder on his voice. For the longest time he had only heard of these people, and now here he is, meeting them and being called  _ family _ . It’s overwhelming him all over again. Then, he pauses, squirming to turn around and glare at Kate, “see!  _ He  _ was a sidekick, why can’t I too?”

 

“That’s ‘cause Bruce is useless against puppy eyes,” Kate says, unimpressed, “and Dick’s perfected his to an art. I, on the other hand, am not spineless.”

 

Bruce Wayne,  _ Batman _ , sighs. “Must you always insult me every five words?”

 

“I mean, it’s not like she’s wrong,” Dick shrugs.

 

He sighs again.

 

Jason glares harder, “I could be like Robin.  _ Your  _ Robin.” A flash of red catches his eyes, Kate’s mask and wig are poking from under the bed. He grins as an idea strikes him, “I know, better yet.  _ Red  _ Robin.”

 

Dick makes a face, something flashing on his eyes, but it fades as quick as it came, and the next second he’s smiling back. “That actually sounds cool. Nice alliteration.”

 

“Don’t encourage him,” Kate frowns, “he’s too young. No crime fighting until high school,  _ at least.” _

 

“This is a dictatorship,” Jason sighs, falling back on the bed heavily, “what’s gonna be next?  _ Curfew?” _

 

“I haven’t thought about that,”she says, “but it’s not a bad idea. How do you feel about six pm?”

 

“I feel like civil disobedience,” he deadpans, “it’s my unalienable right.”

 

“Please, save the rebellion for your teenage years. I’m not equipped to deal with it just yet.”

 

Bruce chuckles, “trust me, there’s no preparing for that.” He glances at Dick, but the teenager is pointedly looking away. “In any case, Alfred says you should get some rest, Kate. And Jason, you’re welcome to explore the house, there’s a room ready for you next door, and someone will call you when it’s time for dinner.” With that, the man is gone, the door closing silently behind him.

 

Dick yawns, stretching, “I’m beat. I think I’ll crash here tonight, so, see you guys at dinner.” He grins, waving them goodbye.

 

Jason lets himself relax after they’re all gone. “This has been the weirdest day yet.”

 

“Weirder than the day we met?” Kate asks, covering a yawn of her own.

 

“Weirder than that,”he nods, serious. Then, something clicks on his head, and he can’t help asking, “did you really leave me in the lobby that day and rushed to get to the penthouse first?”

 

“Yup.” She makes a non-committal noise, “my initial plan was to take you to Bruce, he had precedent on adopting, after all. But he’s got his hands full with Dick right now.” A pause. “I’m glad he refused, to be honest.”

 

_ Me too _ , Jason thinks. “A lot of things make so much sense now. You slip up a lot, you know that?”

 

She grins. “Uh, what can I do, word’s that I’m not exactly subtle.”

 

“I would be an awesome sidekick.” He says, but his words are beginning to slur, as sleep clings to him. “Like,  _ magic.” _

 

“We’ll talk about it,” Kate tells him. Maybe she isn’t as immune to puppy eyes as she says, after all. “Now, shush. Go to sleep before Alfred finishes dinner or Dick gets bored.”

 

Jason doesn’t answer, instead, he curls up at her side, feeling warm and safe and happier than he can remember being in a long time. He drifts off to sleep, and dreams of flying through rooftops and masks and capes.  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hey you made it! if you liked it, maybe leave a kudo or a comment? Those seriously make my day!
> 
> or, you can come talk to me on [my tumblr](http://wearealltalesintheend.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and hey? thanks.


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